An Untimely Open Letter to Santa

Dear Mr. Claus,

Hello, it’s Hannah. I guess you probably already knew that seeing as you know every child on Earth. Or have you forgotten me? Did you erased me out of your ledger the day I turned 13? Anyway, I digress.

I’ve never written you a formal letter, or any type of letter. Even when I was a little kid in Mrs. Stauderman’s second grade class, I knew the letters I wrote to you weren’t real. And no, I’m not claiming to be some sort of child prodigy Nancy Drew. I wasn’t clever enough to figure out that you weren’t real, but I didn’t have to be. Santa, I was never taught to believe in you. I’d like to go back for just a moment. I’d like to take all of the magic of Christmas that I never spent as a child and use it today. I really don’t have a long wish list, but it’s going to take a bit of work.

So here’s my list. And yes I know I missed the deadline, but I’ve got a lot of magic stored up so I hoped you could make an exception.

  • A time machine so that I can make time for both class and life
  • A remote that pauses the world so that I can get some real sleep. Like, I’m talking a full eight hours.
  • A self spelling pen for in class essays so that I can finally learn how to spell beauracracy or buearaucracy or beauraucracy. Bureaucracy, really, how did I not get that?
  • And finally, some sort of quick reading machine that can read all of the books and essays for me and transfer the information directly to my brain. I’m starting to run out of medicine for these reading induced headaches.

So that’s that Mr. Claus.

Best Wishes,




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